A line arrives

penwriting

This afternoon –
a raw pen’s gem
mined from withdrawn
conversations,
phrases held back
because some sentences
are best kept buffed
beneath finger and thumb,
your own uncut stones
of whatever colour
adds to a mood.

There’s no certainty here,
only jig-saw corners
under Scrabble pieces,
and when the pile
is pushed aside,
just personal introspection
which gnaws word ends
into paper leg chains;
yellow garter stanzas
with a hope to arouse
like a Twelfth Night play.

Contentment is now,
this poem lifted
off the uncollaborative floor
to be written complete
with a tapped-out ending;
the keyboard being so creative,
sneaks in with Typo The Greek,
who dances idiotically
on the desktop, thinking himself
worth the attention
of another spell check.

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2 thoughts on “A line arrives

  1. nectarfizz says:

    OMG. Matt! I love it. I missed your poems. This one has just the right touch of emotion, whimsy and (as always) your subtle hinting at other areas of your thinking. I always love your poetry, but there is something about your whimsical side that makes me very, very, happy.

  2. nectarfizz says:

    Ps. Typo the Greek? ::::Falls over laughing::::

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